Complete Works of Theocritus

by Theocritus

  [37] Lo there! a twitch o’ my right eye. Shall I be seeing her? I’ll go lean me against yon pine-tree and sing awhile. It may be she’ll look upon me then, being she’s no woman of adamant.

  [40] (sings) When Schoenus’ bride-race was begun, apples fell from one that run;

  She looks, she’s lost, and lost doth leap, into love so dark and deep.

  When the seer in’s brother’s name with those kin to Pylus came,

  Bias to the joy-bed hies whence sprang Alphesibee the wise.

  When Adonis o’er the sheep in the hills his watch did keep,

  The Love-Dame proved so wild a wooers, e’en in death she clips him to her.

  O would I were Endymion that sleeps the unchanging slumber on,

  Or, Lady, knew thy Jasion’s glee which prófane eyes may never see!...

  [52] My head aches sore, but ’tis nought to you. I’ll make an end, and throw me down, aye, and stir not if the wolves devour me – the which I pray be as sweet honey in the throat to you.

  IDYLL IV. THE HERDSMEN

  A conversation between a goatherd named Battus and his fellow goatherd Corydon, who is acting oxherd in place of a certain Aegon who has been persuaded by one Milon son of Lampriadas to go and compete in a boxing-match at Olympia. Corydon’s temporary rise in rank gives occasion for some friendly banter – which the sententious fellow does not always understand – varied with bitter references to Milon’s having supplanted Battus in the favours of Amaryllis. The reference to Glaucè fixes the imaginary date as contemporary with Theocritus. This is not the great Milon, but a fictitious strong man of the same town called, suitably enough, by his name. The poem, like all the other genuine shepherd-mimes, contains a song. Zacynthus is still called the flower of the Levant. The scene in near Crotona in Southern Italy.

  BATTUS (in a bantering tone)

  [1] What, Corydon man; whose may your cows be? Philondas’s?

  CORYDON

  [2] Nay, Aegon’s; he hath given me the feeding of them in his stead.

  BATTUS

  [3] And I suppose, come evening, you give them all a milking hugger-mugger?

  CORYDON

  [4] Not so; the old master sees me to that; he puts the calves to suck, himself.

  BATTUS

  [5] But whither so far was their own proper herdsman gone?

  CORYDON

  [6] Did you never hear? Milon carried him off with him to the Alpheus.

  BATTUS

  [7] Lord! When had the likes of him ever so much as set eyes upon a flask of oil?

  CORYDON (sententiously)

  [8] Men say he rivals Heracles in might.

  BATTUS (scoffing)

  [9]And mammy says I’m another Polydeuces.

  CORYDON

  [10] Well, he took a score of sheep and a spade with him, when he went.

  BATTUS (with a momentary bitterness)

  [11] Ah, that Milon! he’ld persuade a wolf to run mad for the asking.

  CORYDON

  [12] And his heifers miss him sore; hark to their lowing.

  BATTUS (resuming his banter)

  [13] Aye; ’twas an ill day for the kine; how sorry a herdsman it brought them!

  CORYDON (misunderstanding)

  [14] Marry, an ill day it was, and they are off their feed now.

  BATTUS

  [15] Look you now, yonder beast, she’s nought but skin and bone. Pray, doth she feed on dewdrops like the cricket?

  CORYDON

  [17] Zeus! No. Why, sometimes I graze her alone the Aesarus and give her a brave bottle of the tenderest green grass, and oftentimes her play-ground’s in the deep shade of Latymnus.

  BATTUS

  [20] Aye, and the red-poll bull, he’s lean as can be. (bitterly again) I only would to god, when there’s a sacrifice to Hera in their ward, the sons of Lampriadas might get such another as he: they are a foul mixen sort, they o’ that ward.

  CORYDON

  [23] All the same that bull’s driven to the sea-lake and the Physcian border, and to that garden of good things, goat-flower, mullet, sweet odorous balsam, to with Neaethus.

  BATTUS (sympathising as with another of Milon’s victims)

  [26] Heigho, poor Aegon! thy very kine must needs meet their death because thou art gone a-whoring after vainglory, and the herdsman’s pipe thou once didst make thyself is all one mildew.

  CORYDON

  [29] Nay, by the Nymphs, not it. He bequeathed it to me when he set out for Pisa. I too am something of a musician. Mark you, I’m a dabster at Glaucè’s snatches and those ditties Pyrrhus makes: (sings)

  O Croton is a bonny town as Zacynth by the sea,

  And a bonny sight on her eastward height is the fane of Laciny,

  Where boxer Milon one fine morn made fourscore loaves his meal,

  And down the hill another day, while lasses holla’d by the way,

  To Amaryllis, laughing gay led the bull by the heel.

  BATTUS (not proof against the tactless reference; apostrophising)

  [38] O beautiful Amaryllis, though you be dead, I am true, and I’ll never forget you. My pretty goats are dear to me, but dear no less a maiden that is no more. O well-a-day that my luck turned so ill!

  CORYDON

  [41] Soft you, good Battus; be comforted. Good luck comes with another morn; while there’s life there’s hope; rain one day, shine the next.

  BATTUS

  [44] Let be. ’tis well. (changing the subject) Up with you, ye calves; up the hill! They are at the green of those olives, the varlets.

  CORYDON

  [45] Hey up, Snowdrop! hey up, Goodbody! to the hill wi’ ye! Art thou deaf? ‘Fore Pan I’ll presently come thee an evil end if thou stay there. Look ye there; back she comes again. Would there were but a hurl-bat in my hand! I had had at the.

  BATTUS

  [50] Zeus save thee, Corydon; see here! It had at me as thou sadist the word, this thorn, here under my ankle. And how deep the distaff-thistles go! A plague o’ thy heifer! It all came o’ my gaping after her. (Corydon domes to help him) Dost see him, lad?

  CORYDON

  [54] Aye, aye, and have got him ‘twixt my nails; and lo! here he is.

  BATTUS (in mock-heroic strain)

  [55] O what a little tiny wound to overmaster so mighty a man!

  CORYDON (pointing the moral)

  [56] Thou should’st put on thy shoes when thou goest into the hills, Battus; ’tis rare ground for thorns and gorse, the hills.

  BATTUS

  [58] Pray tell me, Corydon, comes gaffer yet the gallant with that dark-browed piece o’love he was smitten of?

  CORYDON

  [60] Aye, what does he, ill’s his luck. I happened of them but two days agone, and near the byre, too, and faith, gallant was the word.

  BATTUS (apostrophising)

  [62] Well done, Goodman Light-o’-love. ’Tis plain thou comest not far below the old Satyrs and ill-shanked Pans o’ the country-side for lineage.

  IDYLL V. THE GOATHERD AND THE SHEPHERD

  The scene of this shepherd-mime is laid in the wooded pastures near the mouth of the river Crathis in the district of Sybaris and Thurii in Southern Italy. The foreground is the shore of a lagoon near which stand effigies of the Nymphs who preside over it, and there is close by a rustic statue of Pan of the seaside. The characters are a goatherd named Comatas and a young shepherd named Lacon who are watching their flocks. Having seated themselves some little distance apart, they proceed to converse in no very friendly spirit, and the talk gradually leads to a contest of song with a woodcutter named Maroson for the judge and a lamb and a goat for the stakes. The contest is spirits, not to say a bitter, one, and consists of a series of alternate couplets, the elder man first singing his couplet and the younger then trying to better him at the same theme. The themes Comatas chooses are various, but the dominant note, as often in Theocritus, is love. In some of the lines there is more meaning than appears on the surface. After fourteen pairs of couplets, Morson breaks in be
fore Lacon has replied and wards his lamb to Comatas.

  COMATAS

  [1] Beware, good my goats, of yonder shepherd from Sybaris, beware of Lacon; he stole my skin-coat yesterday.

  LACON

  [4] Hey up! my pretty lambkins; away from the spring. See you not Comatas that stole my pipe two days agone?

  COMATAS

  [6] Pipe? Sibyrtas’ bondman possessed of a pipe? he that was content to sit with Corydon and too t upon a parcel o’ straws?

  LACON

  [8] Yes, master freeman, the pipe Lycon gave me. And as for your skin-coat, what skin-coat and when has ever Lacon carried off o’ yours? Tell me that, Comatas; why, your lord Eumaras, let alone his bondman, never had one even to sleep in.

  COMATAS

  [11] ’Tis that Crocylus gave me, the dapple skin, after that he sacrificed that she-goat to the Nymphs. And as your foul envious eyes watered for it then, so your foul envious hands have bid me go henceforth naked now.

  LACON

  [14] Nay, nay by Pan o’ the Shore; Lacon son of Calaethis never filched coat of thine, fellow, may I run raving mad else and leap into the Crathis from yonder rock.

  COMATAS

  [17] No, no, by these Nymphs o’ the lake, man; so surely as I wish ’em kind and propitious, Comatas never laid sneaking hand on pipe o’ thine.

  LACON

  [20] Heaven send me the affliction of Daphnis if e’er I believe that tale. But enough of this; if thou’lt wage me a kid – ’tis not worth the candle, but nevertheless come on; I’ll have a contention o’ song with thee till thou cry hold.

  COMATAS

  [23] ’Tis the old story – teach thy grandam. There; my wage is laid. And thou, for thine, lay me thy fine fat lamb against it.

  LACON

  [25] Thou fox! prithee how shall such laying fadge? As well might one shear himself hair when a’ might have wool, as well choose to milk a foul bitch before a young milch-goat.

  COMATAS

  [28] He that’s as sure as thou that he’ll vanquish his neighbour is like the wasp buzzing against the cricket’s song. But ’tis all one; my kid it seems is no fair stake. So look, I lay thee this full-grown he-goat; and now begin.

  LACON

  [31] Soft, soft; no fire’s burning thee. You’ll sing better sitting under the wild olive and this coppice. There’s cool water falling yonder, and here’s grass and a greenbed, and the locusts at their prattling.

  COMATAS

  [35] I’m in no haste, not I, but in sorrow rather that you dare look me in the face, I that had the teaching of you when you were but a child. Lord! look where kindness goes. Nurse a wolf-cub, – nay rather nurse a puppy-god – to be eaten for ‘t.

  LACON

  [39] And when, pray, do I mind me to have learnt of heard aught of good from thee? Fie upon thee for a mere envious and churlish piece of a man!

  COMATAS

  [41] When I was poking you and you were sore; and these she-kids were bleating and the billy-goat bored into them.

  LACON

  [43] I hope you won’t be buried, hunchback, deeper that polang! But a truce, man; hither, come thou hither, and thou shalt sing thy country-song for the last time.

  COMATAS

  [45] Thither will I never come. Here I have oaks and cypress, and bees humming bravely at the hives, here’s two springs of cool water to thy one, and birds, not locusts, a-babbling upon the tree, and, for shade, thine’s not half so good; and what’s more the pine overhead is casting her nuts.

  LACON

  [50] An you’ll come here, I’ll lay you shall tread lambskins and sheep’s wool as soft as sleep. Those buckgoat-pelts of thine smell e’en ranker than thou. And I’ll set up a great bowl of whitest milk to the Nymphs, and eke I’ll set up another of sweetest oil.

  COMATAS

  [55] If come you do, you shall tread here taper fern and organy all a-blowing, and for your lying down there’s she-goat-skins four times as soft as those lambskins of thine. And I’ll set up to Pan eight pails of milk and eke eight pots of full honey-combs.

  LACON

  [60] Go to; be where you will for me for the match o’ country-song. Go your own gate; you’re welcome to your oaks. But who’s to be our judge, say who? Would God neatherd Lycopas might come this way along.

  COMATAS

  [63] I suffer no want of him. We’ll holla rather, an’t pleas ye, on yon woodcutter that is after fuel in the heather near where you be. Morson it is.

  LACON

  [66] We will.

  COMATAS

  [66] Call him, you.

  LACON

  [66] Ho, friend! hither and lend us your ears awhile. We two have a match toward, to see who’s the better man at a country-song. (Morson approaches) Be you fair, good Morson; neither judge me out of favour nor yet be too kind to him.

  COMATAS

  [70] ‘Fore the Nymphs, sweet Morson, pray you neither rule unto Comatas more than his due nor yet give your favour to Lacon. This flock o’ sheep, look you, is Sibyrtas’ of Thurii.

  LACON

  [74] Zeus! and who asked thee, foul knave, whether the flock was mine or Sibyrtas’? Lord, what a babbler is here!

  COMATAS

  [76] Most excellent blockhead, all I say, I, is true, though for my part, I’m no braggart; but Lord! what a railer is here!

  LACON

  [78] Come, come; say thy say and be done, and let’s suffer friend Morson to come off with his life. Apollo save us, Comatas! thou hast the gift o’ the gab.

  (The Singing Match)

  COMATAS

  [80] The Muses bear me greater love than Daphnis ere did see;

  And well they may, for t’other day they had two goats for me.

  LACON

  [82] But Apollo loves me all as well, and an offering too have I,

  A fine fat ram a-batt’ning; for Apollo’s feast draws nigh.

  COMATAS

  [84] Night all my goats have twins at teat; there’s only two with one;

  And the damsel sees and the damsel says ‘Poor lad, dost milk alone?’

  LACON

  [86] O tale of woe! here’s Lacon, though, fills cheese-racks well-nigh twenty

  And fouls his dear not a youth but a boy mid flowers that blow so plenty.

  COMATAS

  [88] But when her goatherd boy goes by you should see my Cleärist

  Fling apples, and her pretty lips call pouting to be kissed.

  LACON

  [90] But madness ’tis for the shepherd to meet the shepherd’s love,

  So brown and bright the tresses light that toss that shoulder above.

  COMATAS

  [92] Ah! but there’s no comparing windflower with rose at all,

  Nor wild dog-rose with her that blows beside the trim orchard’s wall.

  LACON

  [94] There’s no better likeness, neither, ‘twixt fruit of pear and holm;

  The acorn savours flat and stale, the pear’s like honeycomb.

  COMATAS

  [96] In yonder juniper-thicket a cushat sits on her nest;

  I’ll go this day and fetch her away for the maiden I love best.

  LACON

  [98] So soon as e’er my sheep I shear, a rare fine gift I’ll take;

  I’ll give yon black ewe’s pretty coat my darling’s cloak to make.

  COMATAS

  [100] Hey, bleaters! away from the olive; where would be grazing then?

  Your pasture’s where the tamarisk grows and the slope hill drops to the glen.

  LACON

  [102] Where are ye browsing, Crumple? and, Browning, where are ye?

  Graze up the hill as Piebad will, and let the oak-leaves be.

  COMATAS

  [104] I’ve laid up a piggin of cypress-wood and a bowl for mixing wine,

  The work of great Praxiteles, both for that lass of mine.

  LACON

  [106] And I, I have a flock-dog, a wolver of good fame,

  Shall go a gift to my dearest and hunt hi
m all manner of game.

  COMATAS

  [108] Avaunt, avaunt, ye locusts o’er master’s fence that spring;

  These be none of your common vines; have done your ravaging.

  LACON

  [110] See, crickets, see how vexed he be! see master Goatherd boiling!

  ’Tis even so you vex, I trow, the reapers at their toiling.

  COMATAS

  [112] I hate the brush-tail foxes, that soon as day declines

  Come creeping to their vintaging mid goodman Micon’s vines.

  LACON

  [114] So too I hate the beetles come riding on the breeze,

  Guttle Philondas’ choicest figs, and off as quick as you please.

  COMATAS

  [116] Don’t you remember when I poked you, and you

  Grinning jerked your tail finely at me, and clung to that oak-tree?

  LACON

  [118] That indeed I don’t remember; however, when Eumaras

  fastened you up here and cleaned you out – that anyway I know all about.

  COMATAS

  [120] Somebody’s waxing wild, Morson; see you not what is plain?

  Go pluck him squills from an oldwife’s grave to cool his heated brain.

  LACON

  [122] Nay, I be nettling somebody; do you not see it, then?

  Be off to Haleis bank, Morson, and dig him some cyclamen.

  COMATAS

  [124] Let Himera’s stream run white with cream, and Crathis, as for thine,

  Mid apple-bearing beds or reed may it run red with wine.

  LACON

  [126] Let Sybaris’ well spring honey for me, and ere the sun is up

  May the wench that goes for water draw honeycombs for my cup.

  COMATAS

  [128] My goats eat goat-grass, mine, and browze upon the clover,

  Tread mastich green and lie between the arbutes waving over.

  LACON

  [130] It may be so, but I’ld have ye know these pretty sheep of mine

  Browze rock-roses in plenty and sweet as eglantine.

  COMATAS

  [132] When I brought the cushat ‘tother night ’tis true Alcippa kissed me,

  But alack! she forgot to kiss by the pot, and since, poor wench, she’s missed me.

  LACON

  [134] When fair Eumédes took the pipe that was his lover’s token

  He kissed him sweet as sweet could be; his lover’s love unbroken.

  COMATAS